


Merry Fucking Christmas, Bahorel

by Lynchy8



Series: Fun (and sad!) little drabbles [23]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: 5000 words of porn, Anal Sex, Cock Rings, Delayed Orgasm, Festive fic, Gags, Handcuffs, Lots of bad language, M/M, OT4, Oneshot, Oral Sex, PWP, R in a naughty santa outfit, Rimming, Smut smut and more smut, Table Sex, Tinsel, Vibrating Butt Plugs, bottom Bahorel, edible body glitter, slight D/s, sub!horel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2276496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynchy8/pseuds/Lynchy8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas and Bahorel's boyfriends have thought long and hard about what they want to do to him for Christmas...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Fucking Christmas, Bahorel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purple_embroidery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_embroidery/gifts).



> Yes, I know it's September! The thing is, I had a hell of a week at work last week and the only reason I have any of my marbles left is that I somehow ended up talking meta with Sarah about this delicious OT4 (same verse as my other Feuilly x Bahorel x Jehan fics, just with added R) and once we started talking about R in a naughty santa outfit... well... it just went downhill from there. And this is the result.
> 
> Now, in order to enjoy this fic you must first assume that these four are engaging in safe, sane and consensual polyamorous sex with dom/sub elements that are pre-negotiated and with a safe word in place.
> 
> To be honest, this is just 5000 words of smut and I hope you enjoy. I'm sure I tagged everything but if anyone wants me to tag anything else please let me know and I'll be happy to oblige.

Merry Christmas, indeed! It was a hell of a way to start the day, that was for damn sure. Bahorel had barely stirred at first, only vaguely aware of the shuffling going on around him, of Jehan muttering about needing to put the turkey in the oven. The four of them had been up late the night before making merry, drinking Feuilly's home-brewed mulled wine and watching Muppets Christmas Carol before piling into bed while Jehan read them _'Twas the Night Before Christmas_ , ensuring that their stockings were hung up with care. Perfect.

Four in a bed, even their bed which was a king sized and a single pushed together, usually made for a bit of a scrum in the morning, but Bahorel was pretty good at snoozing through anything that didn't register on the Richter scale and Christmas morning should have been no different. Jehan went to make a start on Christmas Dinner and R was already on sprout duty after coming without permission earlier in the week, so there was no reason for Bahorel to leave the bed for at least another two hours, by his reckoning.

And so he was all set for a lazy morning in bed, right up until he felt the cold pinch of handcuffs as they were snapped over his wrists. Before he could really react, both arms were being pulled up in tandem as he was cuffed to the headboard. Just as he pulled against them, he felt his boxers being wrenched down and his legs spread.

"The fuck?" He questioned sleepily, lifting his head. Of course it was Feuilly and R, the pair of them grinning fiendishly. R, the bastard, was wearing the hat that went with his Naughty Santa outfit and nothing else while Feuilly appeared to be wearing one of Jehan's festive jumpers.

"Spread 'em," Feuilly instructed, gently slapping the inside of Bahorel's thigh and fuck, Feuilly knew how to touch him just right as Bahorel's cock caught up with events far quicker than his brain. He was lying on his front, hardening against the sheets as he dropped his head back to the pillow with a groan.

"Guys," he objected weakly, because it was Christmas and while he trusted his boyfriends with his life, he had no intention of spending the day cuffed to the bed.

Just at that moment a hand came down hard on his left arse cheek, the crack resounding through the room and he choked out a moan, blood rushing south just from being cuffed and bared.

"Spread your legs or say the word, babe," R purred, his fingers digging into the fresh handprint on Bahorel's dark skin. Bahorel sighed. He trusted them; they wouldn't spoil his Christmas by tying him to the bed and leaving him there. And he could tap out at any point and nobody would think any less of him. He trusted them. With a grunt, he spread his legs obediently.

"Good boy," Feuilly praised, stroking Bahorel's calves and ankles before fastening him into the spreader bar.

_Oh fuck_.

The vulnerable position he found himself in was so fucking hot; face down in an x shape, arse up and presented, skin already smarting from R's slap, totally immobilised. He didn’t know what they had planned but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. He could hear them moving about the room, and then gentle hands caressed his face.

“Going to gag you,” Feuilly murmured, looking into Bahorel’s eyes, a playful smirk lighting up his face and Bahorel relaxed against his bonds. He opened his mouth obediently, letting Feuilly gag him before dropping his head back against the pillow. He would just lie there like a good boy and let them play. At the very least he expected to get a good fucking out of it.

_Little did he know…_

“Oh good, he’s ready,” Jehan’s clear voice sang out as he re-entered the bedroom. A thrill of anticipation coursed through Bahorel. He was stripped and presented for his boyfriends and he could practically feel all three pairs of eyes raking over him, and he wriggled with anticipation. Immediately he understood why they had gagged him; Bahorel may like bending over for his boyfriends but he could be a gobby little shit at the same time. If his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, now would be about the time he would have started haranguing them to get on with it. 

He moaned round his gag at the first touch, and it took him a moment to realise that it was a tongue ever so gently circling his hole. His whole body tensed up, a shiver speeding down his spine because dear fucking Christ. R was licking him softly, slowly, and all Bahorel could do was mewl try to hold still, letting R do as he pleased.

He knew it was R. The guy seemed to take a particular pleasure in teasing and toying in such a fashion. Feuilly was harsher, utilising his tongue piercing in the best and worst sort of way. Jehan, meanwhile, had a certain way of sinking his teeth in Bahorel’s cheeks before rimming him. 

It was definitely R who gently licked over his sensitive pucker, blowing soft puffs of air before lapping at the skin behind his balls and _Jesus fuck_ , Bahorel needed him to stop teasing and just tongue-fuck him already.

Bahorel was tight; he hadn’t been fucked in a week which wasn’t really a problem; Feuilly and Jehan had both made good use of his mouth and two days ago he had been allowed to fuck R while the guy in question was held down over the sofa. That had been a good night. But the fact remained that he was tight and it had been a while and R licking him like a fucking ice cream was not even going to be near enough preparation, not for the fucking Bahorel was hoping for. He whined petulantly around his gag.

“Oh, our baby boy doesn’t appear to be enjoying himself,” Jehan crooned in mock sympathy, raking his sharp finger nails up Bahorel’s back, making him gasp and wince at the sharp, delicious pain. The teasing motions continued, the tongue lapping and skirting his hole but never more than that; never pushing in, never quite giving Bahorel what he so desperately craved.

Bahorel tried to get more, tried to move, to force R to give him what he wanted by thrusting backwards. He realised very quickly that it was a stupid move for two reasons; the first being that, naturally, R moved himself back at once. Now, not only did Bahorel not get the tongue-fucking he so desperately desired, but now there was nothing touching him at all apart from fresh air. The second reason became apparent a few seconds later when his hips made the return journey downwards, thrusting against the sheets. The muscles in his belly drew in sharply as he found himself almost unable to stop from rutting animalistically because it felt so damn good.

“Bahorel,” Jehan growled, reaching forward to grab his hair, jerking Bahorel’s head up sharply so he could look him in the eye. Bahorel swallowed round his gag, staring up at Jehan in trepidation.

“If you come now, I promise you it will be the last time you come this year.”

_Holy shit._  
Jehan’s threats always went straight to his cock, which was probably the opposite of what Jehan intended. Ok, so that was the endgame. He was to be a good boy, to take everything he was given and not come until he was permitted. He could do that; they’d obviously been plotting and planning and if this was how they wanted to spend Christmas, by tying him down and stringing him out until he was a begging whimpering mess, then they could knock themselves out.

So, with a tremendous amount of force and self-control, he stilled his hips, taking deep breaths to get a grip on himself.

But sweet fucking lord, now Feuilly and his damned piercing were taking their turn, the cool metal making Bahorel shudder. At least Feuilly wasn’t a complete dick like that bastard shithead R – and Bahorel was going to make him pay later for teasing him so badly – but now his whole world was about the insistent attention his hole was receiving as he was gently stretched. He could feel himself relaxing, only occasionally shuddering and shivering under Feuilly’s attention. Every so often the pad of a thumb stroked over his entrance and there was a slight pressure but actually Feuilly was almost as bad as R, never pushing inside, never filling him up like he wanted and JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, what was wrong with these boys of his? Didn’t they know just how desperate he was to be filled?!

Bahorel wasn’t aware just how much he was whining and groaning round his gag, not until the first tears started to track down his cheeks. Fuck this, these total bastards, couldn’t they just – _oh fuck. Oh fucking fucking fuck that was better_.

Jehan, sweet, wonderful, evil Jean Prouvaire had thrust three fingers straight inside him, making him arch against his bonds. At the same moment, those devilishly straight teeth sank into the meat of his thigh and Bahorel keened. He knew he would bruise and he loved wearing Jehan’s teethmarks.

The fingers in his arse twisted and scissored and Bahorel huffed in relief because fucking _finally_ , it felt like they were getting somewhere. He could hear voices above his head, quiet murmuring between his boyfriends who were the best and worst and still plotting. Bahorel buried his face in the cool pillow, hoping that whatever it was would bring him some sort of relief.

Oh.

Oh shit. 

Oh, those complete _bastards_.

He couldn’t see it, but Bahorel knew what it was as it was slid inside him, the hard nub pressing up against his sweet spot. The conniving little shits had plugged him.

“There we go, baby,” Jehan fussed him. “You be a good boy, all plugged and stretched for us, and we’ll make good use of your hole later on.”

It was a promise; a safe carrot, a finish line that he could reach; all he had to do was sit still. He could do that. Spending Christmas prepped and plugged and ready at any moment, to just be thrown down and fucked? Oh, Bahorel was so down with that! 

They untied him, removed his gag, kissed him and fussed him, stroked his wrists and ankles. The four of them rolled around for a bit, pushing and pulling and sighing happily, and always that wonderful sensation in his hole that he was filled; not as good as it was when Jehan or Feuilly or R were filling him, but just a gentle reminder of what was to come.

+

Bahorel had the worst boyfriends. The absolute worst. Right now, R was streaking through the living room in protest at having been forced to peel 400g of sprouts. He had somehow managed to cover himself in the peppermint edible body glitter that he had brought home from work and was sporting a red oval-shaped mark on his right thigh where Jehan had caught him with the wooden spoon as he had sprinted through the kitchen.

Jehan had yelled at him, threatening him with more than a smack with a spoon if he didn’t get out of the way. Feuilly was grinning as he set the table, folding the napkins perfectly, making an effort because it was Christmas day and the whole thing – the shouting, the streaking and the laughing – was so bloody domestic and wonderful Bahorel might have burst from an excess of soppiness, if it wasn’t for the sharp buzz reminding him that his boyfriends were the fucking _worst_.

He wasn’t quite sure who had the remote to the vibrating plug up his arse, though he suspected it was being passed around. Clearly R didn’t have it right at that moment as he was entirely in his birthday suit. But then Jehan had his hands full in the kitchen and Feuilly was clutching cutlery so apparently there were ghosts in their flat. Ghosts who were able to operate remotes to vibrating butt plugs.

It had been going off at various moments throughout the morning and as a result, Bahorel had been hard more or less continuously for five hours. He could cry. He would have cried if he wasn’t so damn happy. He was constantly on edge, waiting for the damn thing to buzz, the sensation simultaneously too much and not enough. He really wanted to come, but he also really wanted to be good.

R reappeared, thankfully wearing clothes, even if it was that damn Naughty Santa outfit, the short skirt showing off his gorgeous thighs in the best possible way, and _holy fuck_ he’d even bought the candy cane stockings as well, with sweet little red bows finishing the whole image off perfectly, making him look completely edible. Judging by the way Feuilly was practically salivating, Bahorel wasn’t the only one to think so. When R mounted a chair to retrieve the crackers from the top of the book case, Bahorel took advantage of the distraction to seek out Jehan in the kitchen.

Bahorel loved R and he loved Feuilly, but right now he wanted Jehan. Jehan would take good care of him; he always did.

“Please, Sir,” the words tumbled out of Bahorel’s mouth, and he realised that it was the first thing he had said in about two hours, the boisterousness having gone out of him the longer the buzzing in his arse had gone on for. He dropped to his knees, rubbing his face against the welcoming warmth of Jehan’s thighs, sighing happily at the warm, homely scent that clung to his Sir. Looking up, he felt warmth course through him because he had Jehan’s full attention, those sharp green eyes staring down at him full of love and concern. 

“Can I have a cock ring please?”

He’d been thinking about it for about an hour, weighing it up in his mind. He didn’t want to interfere with his boyfriends’ plans, but he didn’t want to come by accident and he definitely didn’t want to safeword; this was nothing that he hadn’t done before, though perhaps not for such a protracted amount of time. Generally he was enjoying himself; he couldn’t fucking wait to have their hands all over him. But in order to get there, it would be best all round if certain measures were put in place that would at least give Bahorel a fighting chance.

Jehan’s expression flickered over a number of different emotions that Bahorel was in no fit state to translate. He’d been hard for such a bloody long time. 

“Oh my sweet boy,” Jehan purred, reaching out to pet Bahorel, and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch, nuzzling at Jehan’s hand. Bahorel had been good; he was being good by asking for what he needed, and what he needed right now was to not come.

Jehan led him into the bedroom and it felt just so nice, a relief of sorts, even though he knew he had a while yet to go before he was granted actual release. As Jehan slipped and clipped the ring into place, Bahorel felt his confidence rise. He could do this.

+

By the time Christmas Dinner rolled round Bahorel was fairly certain that he wanted to die. He still had no idea who had the remote; every time he thought he had worked it out the damn thing would buzz again and usually at such a time when none of them could possibly have done it. Sitting on the dining chairs was murder, as he shifted side to side seeking some sort of relief. God, he wanted to be fucked. He wanted to be fucked over and over so that by the time the third had taken his turn, the first would be hard again and ready for round two. He wanted to be full, to be used and claimed and _fuck’s sake who was buzzing it now?!_ This was torture, pure and simple. Right, that was it.

As Jehan and Feuilly started to clear the table ready for dessert, Bahorel decided to take drastic action. He stood up as the last plate was removed, stripped down his trousers and bent himself over the table. He didn’t care how ridiculous he might appear. Just assuming the position, presenting himself, was such a blessed fucking relief, the cool air against his bared skin.

“I think our boy wants something,” Feuilly commented dryly, folding his arms as he smiled wryly at the sight.

“Come on, you bastards, you’ve been driving me fucking crazy all morning. Just fuck me already,” Bahorel growled, some of his spark coming back. They were going to stop fucking around and start fucking now or so help him there would be consequences. It was fucking Christmas and he deserved to be royally stuffed.

Feuilly was smirking and whispering in R’s ear and those two were dangerous when they plotted, but Bahorel didn’t really have time to ponder much further because suddenly Jehan was behind him, a firm and capable hand pressing down between his shoulder blades, positioning him just how Jehan wanted him.

He ended up resting on his elbows, Jehan kicking his legs apart, despite the constriction of his clothes which were still wedged around his knees. Soft kisses were peppered through the shirt on his back as he was manipulated into the position that Jehan wanted. He twisted his head to meet Jehan’s mouth because Jehan was a filthy kisser and Bahorel liked to whimper and groan into his boyfriend’s mouth almost as much as he liked whimpering and groaning round his cock.

He almost didn’t notice the tinsel being wrapped around his wrists, the soft tickle of the bristles barely registering because lubricated fingers were teasing at the plug in his hole, pushing it in and out just enough to drive Bahorel crazy, as if he hadn’t spent enough of the day on edge.

Bahorel ended up tied down to the table. Feuilly and R were going to pay one of these days, but right now Bahorel didn’t care because he was bent over the dining room table with his legs spread and Jehan was finally – fucking FINALLY – pulling that bloody plug out of his hole and this was it. This was what he had been waiting for all damn day.

“Please PLEASE just fuck me, oh Christ…” he moaned, nice and loud, neighbours be damned.

To his immense surprise, Jehan complied. 

_Holy fuck, oh fuck, oh fucking fuck that felt so good!_

Jehan pushed right inside, having slicked himself up while Feuilly and R had been distracting him with tinsel and knots that would probably require scissors later, knowing R’s knotting skills. Bahorel let out a high whine, especially when Jehan didn’t pull out straight away, didn’t fuck him straight away, just paused for a moment, full seated inside him until Bahorel whimpered, because that’s what these horrible dickhead boyfriends liked to do to him; they liked to torment him and make him whine and cry and beg, and that was absolutely fine by Bahorel. He loved to beg. He begged beautifully and he damn well knew it.

But it was kind of hard to beg when your mouth was full. R, that fucker, had perched himself on the table by Bahorel’s head as Jehan set up an achingly slow pace, the gentle slip and slide of his cock filling Bahorel but not pounding him, not giving him the hard fucking that he so wanted. Bahorel wanted to be broken and remade and he wanted Jehan to know that was what he wanted. However, as he opened his mouth to communicate this general overwhelming sense of frustration, R pressed his thumb against Bahorel’s tongue and of course, the natural response to that was to suck on it. He moaned unashamedly; he would have preferred the weight of R’s cock on his tongue and he was fairly certain that was to come, but Jehan wanted his way first. Whatever, Bahorel didn’t care. Jehan’s movements were beginning to speed up, pushing more insistently inside him. He just had to be good and let Jehan fuck him and right now he was content to suckle R’s fingers like a good boy. Their good boy.

This was heaven. He was so blissed out he almost didn’t notice Feuilly’s first finger slipping in around Jehan’s cock, which was still thrusting in and out of him in an irritatingly steady rhythm. 

It was more of a stretch, having Feuilly’s fingers pushing and twisting alongside Jehan’s cock; the best kind of stretch, pushing him past the mere satisfaction of being fucked and into that beautiful place where there was an edge to it, where it started to ache in the best kind of way. His whole body was humming with the push of his hip bones against the table edge and his own cock, neglected, hung heavy between his thighs, restricted somewhat by the boxers at his knees.

“So good,” Jehan groaned, hands holding Bahorel’s hips, fingers squeezing into his flesh, which just made Bahorel moan all the louder because the more marks the merrier. He had always loved being marked up in bed and Jehan was such a possessive little bastard. He marked his boys with pride and they loved him for it.

He had really picked up the pace now, firmly fucking hard and deep into Bahorel around Feuilly’s fingers, which was really a very promising development.

Bahorel was distracted from that train of thought by a firm hand on his jaw. R was staring at him intently, a benevolent smile on his lips and pupils blown. He leaned forward to seize Bahorel’s mouth in a filthy kiss, and Bahorel couldn’t help but moan into it because R tasted so good.

“Going to fuck that mouth of yours,” R’s voice was low, quivering slightly. “Open wide, boy.”

R tasted so _good_. Around the familiar musk which was uniquely R, Bahorel could also taste the peppermint body glitter. Bahorel loved having his mouth used like this; R holding his head still so he could fuck in and out as he pleased. He didn’t go slow or gentle by any means. Clever fingers held Bahorel’s jaw firmly in place, his eyes scrunched closed as he huffed in pleasure.

“Your mouth, Rel, sweet fuck,” R gasped and Bahorel hummed, trying to do the best he could considering he was pretty much immobilised, Jehan pounding into him in the best possible way. He relaxed his throat, R pushing in deeper, but then his eyes flew open because R was pulling out entirely. More than that, Jehan pulled out as well; Bahorel let out a squawk of protest. 

“The fuck!” he demanded, trying to twist away from the knots holding him in place, but then strong hands were on him, man-handling him and lifting him up, and a lithe body slid between him and the table. Jehan grinned up at him as Feuilly and R arranged Bahorel so that he was straddling the little nymph beneath him.

“Hello, darling,” Jehan chuckled, wrapping his arms around Bahorel’s shoulders and leaning up to kiss him almost chastely. Bahorel, still bound by the tinsel, had little choice but to rest on his elbows, his forearms beneath Jehan’s head. He found himself leaning up on tiptoe so that the boxers that had been anchoring his legs in place could be ripped from him unceremoniously. 

“Hold still, now,” Feuilly warned and Bahorel shuddered at the cold, slick fingers pressing his hole with more lube. Bahorel watched with baited breath as Jehan closed his eyes, cheeks flushed. He wrinkled his nose in concentration and he bit his lower lip, gasping beautifully as Bahorel slid back down onto his cock.

And then.

Fuck.

Merry Fucking Christmas, Bahorel. Feuilly lined himself up and pushed in alongside Jehan.

Bahorel was lost completely. He was beyond noise at this point, all his brain cells imploding at once. He was stretched and so damn full and his whole world had just stopped, narrowed down to just how amazingly filled he was. God fucking almighty. Jehan and Feuilly were deep inside him and this was definitely Bahorel’s favourite thing. This was worth waiting for. 

Best Christmas ever.

“Please move, oh fuck,” finally his words returned. He spread his legs as wide as they could possibly go, delighted by the way Jehan was right in his field of vision, the gorgeous man flushed with sweat, and Bahorel was so in love. He was in love with all of them. Even if his brain was thoroughly addled by the fact that he was being fucked by two of his boyfriends at the same time, he could recognise the hand of each of them in this plan.

The butt plug had blatantly been R’s fault. As had the merciless rimming at the start of the day. Keeping Bahorel waiting, that was all Feuilly. It was pay-back for all those times Bahorel kept Feuilly waiting when he was running late picking the guy up from work. And waiting for Bahorel to crack, which had absolutely been part of the plan because otherwise he would never have been allowed to get away with presenting himself for fucking unless that was what the bastards had been waiting for; he knew these shitheads well enough by now that they would only have fucked him when they were good and ready. Forcing him into this position, of literally throwing himself arse up over the dining room table, that was all Jehan.

Those cunning, conniving, evil fucking geniuses; fucking hell he loved them.

But now they were moving, slowly at first because even though he was dripping with lube, had been stretched for most of the day and had been quite thoroughly and efficiently fucked by Jehan beforehand, they were still going to take their time with this and Bahorel was grateful. Heaven help him, he was going to be feeling this for weeks.

“Coming to join us?” Jehan was out of breath and looking over Bahorel’s shoulder to where, presumably, R was standing, looking down at them. At first, Bahorel didn’t understand. He half expected him to go and open Feuilly up. That was something they’d done before; only it had been R at the bottom of the pile being fucked by Bahorel. Feuilly had been fucking into him whilst being fucked by Jehan. Once they had got their rhythm going it had been an amazing and intense experience.

What he didn’t expect was for R to grab his jaw once more, pulling his head back up with the obvious intent that Bahorel should resume his previous services. He obligingly opened his mouth, eyeing R’s cock greedily. 

After that it was just a blur of sensation. There were hands everywhere, the slap of skin, grunts and groaning and oaths from all three of them. They somehow found a rhythm as Jehan fucked upwards and Feuilly forwards, pushing Bahorel’s mouth further onto R’s cock. Jehan’s hand snuck down between them, light fingers running up Bahorel’s cock and causing him to hum and groan happily.

Sweet mother of fucking Christ, Bahorel could have wept as he was suddenly reminded that yes, he really desperately absolutely needed to come and had been needing to come for some hours now. Bahorel was fairly certain that once Jehan removed the cockring, once Bahorel was allowed to come, that he would be coming for a week. There was a chance he might never stop.

“Sweet boy,” Jehan was moaning beneath him, looking up, his eyes darting between Bahorel and R and all Bahorel could do was stare downwards, his mouth thoroughly preoccupied by the furious amounts of pre-come R’s cock was leaking down his throat.

“Would you like to come?”

Fucking stupid question really, a treacherous part of Bahorel’s brain supplied. Go through all this just to say “no thank you”? Not fucking likely.

But that wasn’t the point. Jehan wanted him to say it, wanted him to beg. To illustrate the point, R suddenly pulled out, fisting his cock, eyes tight shut. It was clear that he was close, very close, but he was waiting for something, some part of the plan that Bahorel wasn’t privy to.

“Want to hear you, sweet boy,” Jehan added in encouragement.

“Come on!” Feuilly growled from behind him, snapping his hips pointedly.

“Please,” Bahorel groaned, voice rough from where his throat had been fucked. “Please let me come. Fucking PLEASE, let me come.”

R came first, splattering over Bahorel’s face with a deep rumbling groan and Bahorel loved it, flicking his tongue to catch as much of it as possible. At the same moment, Bahorel was vaguely aware of hands moving over him. The cock ring was gone and all that time spent on the edge suddenly crashed over him. Feuilly and Jehan were moving again, thrusting hard and fast and it was the absolute best. Bahorel twisted against the tinsel restraints, keening and mewling. 

He cried out when Jehan took him in hand, jerking him off in time to their thrusts. His orgasm boiled away in his guts and he was close, he was so damn _close_ , he was muttering pleas under his breath, eyes screwed tight shut, and with a loud cry he finally came, spending across his chest.

“Shit fucking shit! Oh fuck… oh fuck me, fuck!” expletives tumbled out of his mouth because _sweet Jesus_ he must be dead. He was sensitive and sore and dear lord, Feuilly and Jehan were still going. R was holding his wrists, reinforcing the tinsel because Bahorel was keening, back arching. Lips brushed his forehead and all Bahorel could do was lie there and let them fuck him raw.

Feuilly came next, judging by the sounds; because that’s all Bahorel’s world was now, a series of sounds. Bahorel’s hole was clenching round them; he was so desperate for Jehan to come as well, but he also didn’t want this to end. 

Of course, Jehan did come. He thrust up hard, stretching out like a cat and freezing stock still while buried deep inside the man above him. Bahorel wasn’t sure he’d ever have the brain cells to form an opinion on anything ever again. 

Merry Christmas, indeed.

The hands were moving again. Bahorel tried not to collapse completely onto Jehan, instead dropping his head onto his forearms beside where Jehan lay, his boyfriend’s hot breath tickling his cheek. Feuilly slowly pulled out, relaxing his grip on Bahorel’s hips and R must have gone to get a cloth because Jehan hadn’t moved, his chest rising and falling as he dragged oxygen into his lungs, eyes closed and a blissful smile gracing his lips. He was beautiful and Bahorel couldn’t help but turn his head, kissing him softly. R’s gentle fingers released Bahorel’s wrists and Jehan twisted onto his side, taking those wrists into his hands, kissing and rubbing them gently, murmuring sweet praise.

“Our sweet boy, so good for us,” Bahorel could barely hum in response. “Shall we plug you?”

Now there was a thought.

On the one hand, Bahorel was really rather sore right now. He could only imagine how red raw he must be down there right now. But on the other, he was full of Feuilly and Jehan. He had to admit it, being plugged was a bloody attractive thought.

+

They spent the afternoon in bed, sleeping off what everyone agreed had been the best Christmas Dinner ever. 

Christmas night found them watching terrible festive television, wrapped up in blankets on the couch. Half way through The Great Escape, Bahorel ended up bent over the arm of the sofa, R gently fucking him while Jehan stroked his hair and Feuilly jerked himself off lazily, enjoying the show.

That night Bahorel went to sleep wrapped up in the arms of his boyfriends, plugged and full and so fucking happy.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are as in love with this highly unappreciated foursome as I am, please feel free to drop into my message box on tumblr at lynchy8.


End file.
